Anne Ashley (12 page)

Neither wishing to appear immaturely gauche, nor unduly
flattered, she said, ‘If I look well tonight, then it is not to be wondered at,
sir. Who could not look her best wearing such beautiful gems?’

He appeared satisfied with the response. ‘Ah! I’m pleased you
like the set. You never said as much when you thanked me so prettily for the
other things,’ he reminded her, much to her further discomfiture. ‘The ruby
necklace belonged to my mother,’ he went on to explain. ‘It has been housed at
my bank for several years. I sent instructions to have it cleaned a few weeks
ago, and at the same time instructed Rundell & Bridge to fashion earrings
and bracelet in the same style.’

Now that she realised he had entrusted her with something of
such sentimental value, she felt so very much worse for never having remarked on
the set before today. She might have acted with the very best of intentions, not
wishing to appear enthusiastic or, worse, covetous of something that could never
fully belong to her, but by so doing she must have appeared totally ungrateful
for the loan of such beautiful gems.

‘You may be sure, sir, that I shall take the very best care of
them whilst they’re in my charge, although I do think it would be safer all
round if you were to continue housing them at the bank for most of the
time.’

He looked at her strangely, frowningly, as though she had
spoken a language quite beyond his understanding. ‘Let us be clear on one matter
at least—the rubies belong to you, Briony, yours to do with as you wish. I have
no intention of taking them from you now…or at any time in the future.’ Her
total bewilderment was clear for anyone to see. ‘Look upon them as a groom’s
wedding gift, belated though it has been, if it makes it easier for you to
accept them.’

If she had felt bewildered before, she felt utterly stunned
now, and remained so, hardly aware of just what she was uttering in response to
Luke’s light-hearted conversation, until after they had arrived at their
destination and she stepped inside Petersham House’s lofty hall for the very
first time.

Although midsummer, she shuddered as she untied her velvet
cloak and handed it to a waiting flunkey. Yet a far more disturbing tremor ran
through her a moment later as Luke helped arrange her silk shawl about her
shoulders and warm fingers made brief contact with that portion of bare flesh
above her long evening gloves and below the ornately embroidered little cap
sleeves of her gown.

Luke was not oblivious to the spontaneous reaction to his
touch, but oddly enough felt not a whit disheartened by it. Unless he was much
mistaken, it wasn’t revulsion she felt, but the awakening of sensual awareness;
at least he hoped as much.

He smiled to himself as he escorted her up the wide and solidly
built stone staircase, a structure that, in his opinion, added considerably to
the Gothic mansion’s eerie and unwelcoming atmosphere. In truth, he had never
liked the place, not even as a boy. To his way of thinking it was a monstrous
edifice, set high on its promontory, totally ostentatious and totally lacking
any architectural merit. He could only be extremely grateful that he wasn’t
destined to inherit the unprepossessing pile himself and could quite understand
why Miles Petersham spent so little time here as a rule.

No hint betraying his dislike of the place showed in his
expression as he greeted their host with aplomb, though he was quite
deliberately sparing in his exchange of pleasantries with the flighty young
woman standing beside Miles Petersham, a circumstance that he strongly suspected
did not go unnoticed by his exquisite companion; at least he sincerely hoped it
had not.

The instant he had escorted Briony through to the large room
where the party was taking place, he appreciated he was by no means the only
red-blooded male present attracted by his wife’s looks. He witnessed several
gentlemen casting openly desirous glances in her direction. Whether she had
merely grown accustomed to receiving attention, or was quite oblivious to the
fact that she aroused such adoration in a great many members of the opposite
sex, Luke couldn’t have said with any degree of certainty. All the same, she
didn’t appear to notice that she had become the cynosure of many pairs of
masculine eyes.

‘Great heavens!’ she exclaimed, staring about in wonder. ‘There
must be well over a hundred people here already.’

‘Nearer two, I shouldn’t wonder,’ he corrected, now having
scanned the room himself.

‘You’re possibly right. I haven’t seen anyone I recognise yet.
Why, half the county must be here, Luke! The Petershams certainly don’t believe
in doing things by halves!’

‘Miles certainly doesn’t, at any rate,’ he agreed wryly,
continuing to scan the throng for familiar faces. ‘Ah, look yonder!’ He gestured
towards one corner of the room where a slender young man in a dark blue dress
uniform stood quite alone. ‘Now what do you suppose induced our friend Miles to
invite a Preventive officer to his party? One cannot imagine they have too much
in common. He looks a little lost, poor fellow. I think it behoves me to bear
him company for a short while.’

‘Do you really think you should?’ Briony had uttered the words
before she realised just what she was saying. Luke’s night-time activities had
rarely left her thoughts since her discovery of the secret tunnel leading to the
lodge. She had strived not to let her imagination run wild, but the thought that
Luke might be involved in something decidedly unsavoury had crossed her mind on
more than one occasion, instantly turning her thoughts to the smuggling
trade.

‘Tell me, my dear, is there any reason why I shouldn’t?’ Luke
asked, eyebrows raised in evident surprise.

Was his bewilderment genuine, or was he merely playing some
devious game in order to allay any suspicions? Where Luke was concerned it was
always so difficult to judge. He must have been a wonderful asset to Wellesley,
she decided. His expression rarely gave anything away.

She shrugged in an attempt to appear completely indifferent.
‘Naturally, you must do just as you please. But you’ll forgive me, I’m sure, if
I decline to accompany you. I find Lieutenant Henshaw a trifle too stiff for my
taste. Besides which, I’ve just spotted Lady Willoughby sitting over there with
her daughter.’

Luke didn’t attempt to persuade her to remain at his side. He
even went so far as to escort her across to the baronet’s wife and her gauche
young daughter. He remained exchanging pleasantries until such time as Briony
had comfortably settled herself on the chair beside Lady Willoughby, then made a
beeline for the young lieutenant, who was clearly feeling out of place in his
surroundings.

‘I’m surprised to find you here, Henshaw,’ he declared,
arriving without being observed by his quarry and causing him to start visibly.
‘I wouldn’t have thought it was your thing at all.’

‘Quite right, sir, it isn’t,’ he admitted. ‘But it doesn’t do
to offend the important families in one’s district.’

‘Besides which, one never knows just what one might discover on
such occasions, when the wine is flowing freely and tongues become unguarded,’
Luke suggested with a wickedly knowing grin.

The young officer’s dark eyes narrowed as he shot Luke a
considering look. ‘It is true the most unlikely people are involved in the
trade, sir, as you are probably very well aware.’

Appearing completely untroubled, Luke continued to gaze about
the room, picking out the odd familiar face among the ever-increasing throng. ‘I
don’t doubt the truth of that for one minute. I would imagine there are a number
here who would be happy to receive the odd keg of rum and brandy, and no
questions asked. And one must never forget that the more privileged members of
society are not always very generous employers and those labourers working the
land for a pittance might willingly involve themselves in smuggling, if it meant
they could afford a luxury or two for their families.’

The lieutenant’s expression hardened at the clear note of
compassion in Luke’s voice. ‘I gain the distinct impression that you are
sympathetic to their plight, sir. Well, I am not! The people I deal with are
hard, ruthless men who would willingly slit their mother’s throat if it showed
them a profit.’

‘You’re wrong, lad. Many are merciless, it’s true, but not
all,’ Luke countered and once again found himself the recipient of a hard,
penetrating gaze.

‘You sound as if you’ve experience in such things, Mr
Kingsley.’

‘I was in the army, lad, for over half a decade. You cross
those from all walks of life there. As Wellesley is wont to complain—his army is
made up of the scaff and raff of humanity. And it would be true to say many of
them are thieves and murdering rogues, but not all, by any means. I cannot help
feeling that if hard-working men earned enough to feed their families, they
wouldn’t then need to step beyond the law in order to put food in the bellies of
their children.’

All at once there was a derisory twist to the Lieutenant’s
mouth. ‘Unfortunately, sir, in my line of work such sentiments are not
encouraged.’

‘Clearly not,’ Luke agreed, smiling to himself as he bowed his
head in a brief farewell salute and moved away.

* * *

Briony meanwhile had been graciously receiving
compliments on her appearance from Lady Willoughby, who had been particularly
fulsome in her praise of the fine gems. The baronet’s wife had then changed the
topic of conversation completely by voicing her disgust and dismay at the
shocking expense of funding London Seasons for daughters, thereby enabling
Briony to cast an eye over the increasing number of guests entering the
ballroom, while offering words of sympathy at appropriate moments.

She had spoken no less than the truth when she had admitted to
knowing so few people present. Yet, as she continued to look about her, while
lending a polite ear to Lady Willoughby’s homily, she noticed that, with the
exception of their local vicar and his good lady wife, everyone who had attended
the dinner party at the Manor was present that evening.

It perhaps wasn’t so very surprising to discover Dr Mansfield
and his attractive young sister among the guests. Unless she was much mistaken,
the good doctor had been summoned to Petersham House on several occasions since
setting up his practice in the district. What did come as something of a shock,
however, was the attention he now appeared to be paying Melissa Petersham.

She couldn’t help smiling to herself as she recalled Luke’s
somewhat scathing remarks. He had certainly expressed doubts about the good
doctor’s character. And maybe he hadn’t been so far out in his judgement. It
certainly appeared Dr Mansfield’s interests had switched within a relatively
short space of time. At the dinner party held at the Manor she had been the sole
object of his gallantry. Here it seemed Melissa Petersham was to experience the
full impact of the practitioner’s natural charm and appeared to be enjoying it,
too. Oddly enough Briony felt not a whit resentful over the fickle doctor’s lack
of constancy and therefore was able to study the couple quite objectively.

There was no denying, of course, that a connection with such an
old and respected family could do the good doctor’s career no harm whatsoever.
Furthermore, there was the distinct possibility that Lord Petersham might
provide his niece with a dowry enough to tempt an ambitious young practitioner.
Only time would tell, she supposed. One thing was for sure, though—Luke had not
married her in an attempt to boost his social standing. Nor had he married her
for any financial considerations, come to that!

It was at this point that Briony happened to catch sight of yet
another of those whose behaviour she found questionable making a beeline towards
her. Fortunately Lady Willoughby herself had provided Briony with the perfect
excuse to refuse any offers to take to the floor when she had assured Briony a
short time before that no one could possibly object to her elegant attire,
providing she observed certain other proprieties and did not dance.

Consequently, Briony was able to refuse Claud Willoughby
without causing the least offence to him or his mother, and directly afterwards
slipped out on to the terrace so that she might enjoy a breath of fresh air.

In stark contrast to the stuffy atmosphere in the large
reception room, the air outside, having come straight off the sea, was
refreshingly clean and sweet-smelling. Briony walked over to the stone-built
balustrade, removing one of her long evening gloves as she did so in order to
take more advantage of the refreshing air, then stared out across the blue-grey
waters towards the horizon. It was a magnificent view on this balmy summer’s
evening, but undoubtedly quite a different story during winter months when the
sea was whipped into a frenzy by high winds, and came crashing around the rocky
shoreline far below. It was little wonder the mansion had been built in heavy
grey stone, with walls thick enough to withstand the fiercest elements.

Looking downwards, she was surprised to discover the garden was
much larger than she had imagined and fell away in a series of wide terraces
towards the cliff edge, which was hidden from view behind a substantial
shrubbery. Absently she wondered whether it was possible to get down to sea
level from there, or whether the cliff face was too sheer to make an attempt. It
certainly appeared so from a distance. But then the house appeared much closer
to the cliff edge than it in fact was, she reminded herself, just as she
detected a slight sound behind her.

Turning, she discovered none other than the host himself
crossing the terrace and moving as stealthily as a cat. If anyone had ever found
a safe path down the cliff face, she imagined it would have been Miles Petersham
when a boy. Although for all the world he might appear the suave gentleman of
breeding, accustomed to partaking in all fashionable pursuits, like Luke, there
was about him a certain reckless quality that suggested he would not flinch at
possible danger.